


Octopath Traveler *Working Title*

by Ari_Riese



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Based on a Tumblr Post, I'm sorry Amino for taking so long, Magic Mirrors, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-07-11 18:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ari_Riese/pseuds/Ari_Riese
Summary: Although it isn't strange to dream of people with your face plastered onto them, what is strange is when you gain the powers of said people. This is the story of eight people who had gone through that strange fact. how they met, and how they discovered their strange new abilityThese are their stories.





	1. Prelude to Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is Ari Riese here! Here with a fanfiction that will span the whole year! (Probably) And although I'm going it will take me a while to type these stories up, I'll need some more time since High School (Oof) is taking away most of my time. I'll try to post often as possible, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction that i have concocted just for the fans of Octopath traveler!   
> Please, Enjoy.

The witch tumbles down to the ground, hissing in pain as the eight of them surround her. Her hair in a frizzy mess, her eyes blurry from the tears rolling down her face. She didn’t want to look, look at the pitying gazes of the apothecary, the stern ones of the warriors, the fury abiding in the Dancer. The witch takes a moment to catch her breath, to clumsily wipe the tears streaming down her face. She heaves her chest up and down, her fingers fizzling for one final spell. One powerful enough for a curse that would envelop all eight of the people standing before her.

 

But she takes the moment to put her fingers down, to take one of them down to death's door wouldn’t be enough. The eight standing before her killed the father that loved her so much, tearing his flesh apart with swords and spells, knocking the poor soul down to the ground when he finally called upon his ultimate attack. He was supposed to tear them down, bring darkness to a world too bright; but what had happened?

 

The scholar raises his staff, watching her movements for a curse that he could so easily dispel. Her eyes wander to the merchant clothed in the robes of the runelord, her mind going through the silly idea of a girl younger than herself learning the sacred runes of the olden days of Osterra. Each and every one of them, more stronger than the other in a certain way.

 

If Galdera, her father, the god of death and life himself was destroyed by a group of talented individuals. Who knows how powerful they could become? Who knows what they could do later one.

 

How easily would’ve it been if she could simply cast something far more powerful if she hadn’t used all her power to bring her father back from the empty chasm. How easily it would’ve been if she could simply cast a curse that they would all wither away into nothing, their power taken and stripped away. 

 

No, her curses wouldn’t work. She would only be powerful enough to perform one curse, and although she could affect all of them. They would work together to defeat this curse, they would be able to break the curse. The Cleric, Scholar, Merchant, Warrior, Dancer, Apothecary, Thief, and even the huntress. Every single one of them, each with their special talents would simply shrug it off, and live on. 

 

No, they were too strong. Too powerful to have a simple curse placed upon them. She needed something greater, a spell that allow her more time to recharge her power. To persuade another to join in this quest to revive the broken pieces of her father. A spell that would allow her to weaken them, yet allow her to enact her revenge.

 

….

She smiles wickedly, dark flames bursting from her hands turning to rays of yellow light. She huffs as her eyes blink at the sudden flash of bright light filling the dark room. The eight of them, all they can do is simply watch as she draws a series of characters onto the sky.

 

_ If she couldn’t curse them, if she couldn’t kill them without filling the deep dark chasm in her heart, if she couldn’t cast any spell without having them easily dismiss it with a wave. _

She delightfully smiles as the yellow flame grows bluer from each step she took, watching them back away shouting warnings at each other.

With a small wave of her hand, they all collapse down onto the ground. Blue light filling their souls up with something far more greater than any power they had ever witnessed. Because if she couldn’t cast a curse or send them down to hell.

 

_ Then she’ll bless them instead. _

\-------------------------------------------

Ophilia wakes up in a cold sweat, her yellow dress in tatters. Her blond hair fringing at the edges, her face stained with dust and smoke. She watches for a slight twitch of a hand from any of her companions, breathing a sigh of relief as she spots the cloaked professor arise from his slumber before being joined by Tressa soon after.

 

“ Is it all over?” Tressa asks, wary of any signs of the dark God rising from the dark chasm nearby the cliffside.  Ophilia looks over at the horizon, watching for the dark sky littered with so many stars. Waiting for a loud eruption followed by a cacophony of screams from the souls of the dead littering Galdera’s body. 

 

Instead what follows, is silence. Silence between the eight of them, Therion is the first to stand amongst all eight of them to check over the cliffside followed by an anxious Alfyn.

 

“ Do you really need to check?” The white haired thief shrugs before walking closer to the cliffside and checking deep down the chasm. She sees him twitch before sucking in some air and taking a step away from the cliff. “ Nothing, there’s nothing down there.” 

 

Cyrus raises an eyebrow before joining Therion nearby the cliffside, solidifying his claims of an empty black chasm reflecting at the back of them. He nods towards the rest of them, pulling her hair back in a huff. “ By Alephan, he’s correct!” They all stay silent, again. Before it’s broken by the sounds of laughter from Tressa.

  
“ W-Wow! W-We really beat a God of darkness?” She curls up, cradling her legs and burying her chin into her knees, the shocked girl giggles to herself. Primrose, joins her in the chorus of laughter. “ So, we really did do it.” She sighs watching over at H’aanit for her response. Instead of laughter, the woman returns with a serious gaze.

 

“ Thoust dost not knoweth that,” H’aanit snuggles a hand beneath Linde’s ears. Attempting to smooth her coarse and rough fur, “ He mayeth return stronger.” She narrows her eyes towards the spawning place of Galdera, still wary of his presence. 

 

“ Well shucks,” Alfyn hoists his axe over his shoulder while flashing his signature grin, “Then we’ll jus’ have to be stronger next time!” He stands strong, pulling Therion close. The thief mumbles a small groan, covering half of his face with his purple scarf to hide the small dust of red blooming at his cheeks. Ophilia pulls a cloak over Primrose who gladly takes it, shivering from the cool breeze coming from the empty horizon.

 

In a burst of light soon after, Kit reappears. Gasping for air before standing up and looking around confused before his eyes catches the eight of them stroking up a campfire. “ Wha-What are you doing here?” He dusts his bright blue cloak and curiously looks around the area. “ Where are we now?” He pauses, his shimmering sapphire eyes rushing towards the edge of the cliff.

 

“ Father! Father!” He reaches out his hand before being pulled back by Olberic and H’aanit, squirming in their grasp as he shouts Graham Crossford’s name over and over. It takes them a while to drag him back to the camp, having to resort to tying Kit down and telling him the truth despite the heavy hearts of both Tressa and Alfyn. Telling him of the Witch Lyblac’s deeds, speaking in their calmest voice to keep him steady. 

 

They prepare to watch him cry, but instead he purses his lips together. “ Can you let me go already?” H’aanit and Olberic exchange glances with the others and watches Alfyn’s careful nod before untying kit’s ropes binding him. The blonde stretches for a bit, yawning. “ Why are you all still here? Don’t you have anything else better to do?” The groups pauses, each and every one of them averting his gaze. Before Cyrus clears his throat and replies.

 

“ We’re trapped.” Cyrus infers with a small twinge of regret as the crew’s faces turn bleak. “ But we are still on the lookout for anyway of escape!” Therion hisses and chews on some grapes. 

 

“ No, we’re either going to shrivel up and die of old age or run out of supplies and die of starvation. All because we just  had to save Kit.” 

“ Stop being so negative!” Tressa chastises before sadly looking down, “ You’re going to spread it.” She mumbles. Cyrus pats her gently on the back in a small effort to bring her some small comfort. “ We shouldn’t give up now, we’ve only tried pushing open the gates. Perhaps there is some secret way to open it-” The blonde coughs into his hand interrupting Cyrus and gaining the attention of the rest of the group.

 

“ I think I have an idea of getting out. But it involves something incredibly risky.”

\-------------------------------------------

She wakes up, blonde hair frizzled. Her sight clouded from the sudden speck of light appearing from the ceiling, she sighs. Slowly taking her time to get off her comfy bed to stretch her arms, yawning into her hand as she opens the window curtains. Allowing a chilly breeze to enter the room, letting rays of sunshine beam into her room. She allows herself to stretch her head out the window and look down at the paved concrete streets. The several trees planted to make her home much more of a scenery to enjoy. Flower and honeysuckle growing from its thick branches, letting loose some of it heavy fruit drop down into the ground splashing its innards onto the grass.

 

Her door slams open, her sister with her typical brown braided hair huffing from her morning jog. The blonde closes the window and lets her sister into the room.

 

“ How was practice?” Her sister quickly removes her shorts, carelessly tossing them into the laundry basket at the far corner of the room, she places her headband placed on their shared desk, and discards her shirt before she finally responds. “ Oh, yeah practice was great!” She sarcastically says, huffing as she rushes to open the cabinets. The younger sister helps by placing a towel near a rack, “ Well that's great! I’m sure with you in the front of it all you’ll be able to finish this years Flame marathon in a great finish!” She flashes her a smile.

 

“ I’m glad that you’re one of the people cheering me on,” She sighs, “ I had some people mad at me for spraining my ankle Phili! And I only managed to miss my original time by ten minutes.” She hands her the sweaty hairband that kept her braid tightly together. She steps into the room before stopping in her tracks, hand on the door knob.

 

“ Go on without me, I get to have about an hour to myself thanks to early morning practice.” She shuts the shower room door closed, leaving the blonde to her own thoughts. 

\-------------------------------------------

_ Although that story had taken place a long time ago, Ophilia couldn’t help but open her eyes to a scene that she couldn’t very well describe.  _

 

_ It was her, it was a figure with the same face, same hair, same eyes, same nose, same everything. It was like looking at a reflection of herself through a mirror, finding her fingers being placed on said mirror to look closer. Trying to find out more, finding herself enraptured by the figure behind the mirror, but she couldn’t help and feel a slow sinking suspicion creep deep inside of her. _

 

_ This figure, was her. Just from a different reality, Ophilia remembers the professor’s countless amount of lectures. This particular scene reminds of her one. _

 

_ The idea, the very belief that different realities exist. That somewhere there is a time that Ophilia didn’t decide to go on her pilgrimage in place of her own sister. That she didn’t defeat Mattias, that she didn’t help Lianna in her greatest time of need, that she didn’t aid her friends in the defeat of Galdera. _

_ This reality was different, very different from the one she belongs to. This Ophilia had the same face, eyes, nose, ears, mouth, voice. But she lacked one quality that Ophilia herself could recognize from a mile away. _

 

_ This Ophilia lacked the ability to express her true self, her emotions bottled up and waiting to explode. This Ophilia that shared almost everything with her lacked the ability to express herself. _

 

_ The ability to trust. _

\-------------------------------------------

“ Phili, Phili!” Ophilia wakes up slowly, her eyes red from the amount of time she spent awake. From the light that shined just a bit too bright hanging from the ceiling, it was midnight. The sun wasn’t shining, she couldn’t open the window and expect a cool breeze to filter into her room.

 

It was too dark to see anything unless a light was turned on.

 

There on her side, Lianna clutches her hand tightly. Her face wet with the tears that continuously stream down her face. Lianna sobs, pulling her arm to show her something. 

 

The next thing she knows, she sees her father. Lying too still for comfort on a hospital bed, his face too pale for any normal human to possess. His veins popping out like sickening tunnels on his flesh, his air being transferred through a mask that covered his nose and mouth. Lianna clutches tightly onto the blankets of father’s bed, choking on her tears as she refuses to move anywhere else from her father’s bedside.

 

Mattias rushes into the room, supposedly he was the son of the doctor taking care of Father. He asks Lianna to stop crying, to choke up her tears and participate. How death makes people stronger, and how important of a role she plays in the marathon. How father would always be by her side.

 

But Lianna wouldn’t move, throwing herself into the bed without any hesitation. Refusing to move despite Mattias’s and the Doctor’s pleas. 

 

“ I just want to be alone with Dad.” She whispers to Ophilia, she begs Ophilia. 

 

As she sits on a nearby bench near the hospital, she looks up at the night sky. If Lianna couldn’t participate in the Flame Marathon, who would? Mattias was a candidate but he was the student manager, the boy who planned everything ahead. If he suddenly became the one to run mile after mile to each and every church, then who would direct people on where to go? Who would get anything planned when he was too busy stretching and practicing for the last month of summer?

 

Her mind went adrift, the sudden shock of being woken up at three a.m in the morning rushing to her head. She was exhausted, her eyes blinking and her head moving up and down in an attempt to stay awake. While Lianna was used to the early mornings, Ophilia wasn’t. While Lianna was dedicated to a sport and group of friends that she loved, Ophilia had her pens and paper. 

 

Ophilia Clement was afraid of what would happen next as Mattias approaches her with two cans of soda in his hand. Sighing into his drink before taking a large gulp out of it. “ I just couldn’t find anyone as strong and flexible as Lianna, she was the only one that I trusted with this marathon.” He huffs, emptying the can of the last drops of soda. “ What am I going to do?” He leans back into the wall, inhaling and exhaling deeply while brushing his red hair back. 

 

For the next moments, Ophilia wants it. The position, the opportunity, everything that Lianna would’ve had if Father hadn’t gotten into this mess. But something in her mind chastised her for being selfish, because how dare she take advantage of Lianna’s most vulnerable state to take her place. How dare she. Ophilia clutches the can of soda between her two hands while looking over at Mattias.

 

“ I hope that you’ll find someone soon.” 

\-------------------------------------------

They decide to take a hiking trip, Mattias, Lianna and Ophilia. All three of them decide this on the basis of trying to forget what had happened during the week. Lianna being intentionally silent throughout the trip, the mountain being an unusually beautiful place in the summer with the bird chirping and the wind blowing in its usual calm pace.

 

Ophilia didn’t exactly feel like admiring everything that surrounded her, not with Lianna sulking more than usual.

_ “ How dare you think that way?” _ She chastises herself while swatting away some flies. Mattias noticing the sudden drop of enthusiastic praise stops the both of them. “ I think we should settle in, the sun’s going down and we should set up camp now.” Mattias places his satchel down onto the floor and waits for the other two to follow along.

 

Soon enough, it's night just as Mattias said it would. The fire crackling in the pit that they had dug up, both sisters sit and stare into the flames. Mattias setting up all three of the tents that they would sleep in, taking extra caution to prevent any insects from getting in. Lianna leans over to Ophilia in an almost drunken state, “ I wish that i could see Dad again.” She sadly laughs, “ He loves camping, and he especially loves it when we pull out the smores.” She purses her lips, as if it would help her stand closer to the flame. 

 

They turn in for the night when the fire is burned out, she situates herself into the blankets that she had bought for herself on the air bed. Instead of falling asleep as fast as she had wanted to, she stays awake. Hearing basically everything known to man in her sleepless fueled daze, Ophilia sighs. Opting to get out of the tent and get a breath of fresh air, she rushes out. 

 

And catching Lianna rush into the woods. 

 

Her instincts take over as she follows Lianna, the pure intent on keeping her safe took over her body. Philia’s eyes trailing her sister’s every move.

 

Her eyes trail Lianna as she stumbles into a bush, than the low growls come. Its almost comical, having wolves out of all the things that could surround her sister. The sister that love and cherished everything around her, the sister that deserved every bit of kindness and respect that came from everyone, Lianna. Who pulled her out of her greatest misery was going to be eaten by wolves.

 

And in a selfish desperation, she lunges forward towards the pack with a pole in her hand.

\-------------------------------------------

_ It was the fact that this other Ophilia thought of every single of her actions were selfish. Her intent on keeping her loved ones safe seemed to be so superficial to the figure with the same face as her. The idea of a kind gesture that she performed being brushed off as an act of repaying a guilt she never owed. _

 

_ Ophilia behind the mirror saw how she brandished the pole, how her form wasn’t strong enough to overtake the pack of wolves. _

_ She would be eaten, with nothing remaining of her, and than it would be over. _

 

_ But somewhere deep within her, she felt a sort of bond between them. This figure was the same as her, despite not always having to strength to. She would die for her companions, no less her family.  _

 

_ Maybe this once, just this once will she allow herself to help the figure on the other side of the mirror. _

_ What harm would come of it? _ _   
_ \-------------------------------------------

Light came from the sky.

 

It was a miracle when she had raised the pole high enough above her head the light seemingly came out of nowhere, the wolves furious at the death of their comrades attacked her with full force. But somewhere bleeding through her veins was a new sense of power stemming from her. This new sense came from within her. She raises the staff high into the air again, watching each of the wolves disappear into ashes. 

 

Until only one remains, whimpering over its comrades before finally raising its nose towards her. It flees, wandering off into the deeper part of the forest. She rushes over to her sister’s side, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that she had come quickly enough. She heaves her sister’s body over her back.

 

Not noticing Lianna’s eyes open that witnessed the whole scene.


	2. Albright is Alright-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad gets mugged, son angsts about his appearance, mom is worried and old man is there because he's cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to thank Mountainmoth for editing this chapter. Thanks for their hard work that I can feel really proud about this certain chapter!  
> Either way, Cyrus's chapter went through a lot of different renditions and I decided to finally stick with this one. Hence, the long release date. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

He finds himself falling short on time as he dashes through each alleyway, the satchel by his side swaying back and forth. While he struggles to find a proper exit out of the building - Odette dashes through each hallway, while carefully looking at her surroundings, before grasping his arm and pointing. He follows suit, feeling her nails dig into his skin.

  


When they turn the corner they find themselves in front of the exit. Bursting through the door they both run towards the many cascading alleys in hopes that it would shake their pursuers off their trail. Instead, they find themselves blocked off by a chain-link fence.

  


In a huff, the blonde haired woman finds herself over the fence in no time. Turning around - expecting her partner to be following her actions; however he stood still, the satchel by his side and choking on his breath as they hear the distant crunch of snow. His hand now gripped tightly onto the fence.

  


“What are you doing, hurry up!” She hisses, waiting for him to start climbing.

  


“ Leave me,” he whispers.

  


She walks  towards the fence, “ Stop trying to be the hero you old man, it's just a quick jump over a fence.” 

  


He weakly chuckles, “ You know I’m not as quick as you, I’ll just slow you down.” 

  


She begins to grip the fence tightly, “You're slowing me down enough by just standing there, hurry up and get over here.” 

  


“ Listen,” He sharply turns his head, looking for the crunch of snow before turning back towards her, “ I’ll hand you the book. You just run if I can’t help you escape -than the least I can do is leave you with some extra time.” 

  


“ Dammit Albright,” She says. “I’m not going to leave you here. What if they catch both of us? What if they threaten-,” she stops when the footsteps get louder. The woman looks at him, the alleyway behind him, and then the empty streets before muttering something he couldn’t hear. She nodded, slowly stepping back and waiting.

  


He opens the satchel, the shouts of men following as he swears underneath his breath; before pulling out a scarlet tome and tossing it over the fence. She catches it, and with the book, in her arms, she cradles it close to her chest. She looks back one final time towards him.

  


“ I hope,” Odette grits her teeth. “ I hope that I’ll see you again you old fool,”. She chokes out a small whimper as she limply walks backward, still looking back. The shouts of men come closer and she breathes one last shaky breath before disappearing from his sight.

  


Soon enough, his pursuers catch up with him. Nailing his face into the snow and emptying the bag of its contents. They kick him around, shouting as to where it what they were looking for was.

  


“ Somewhere far, far away,” he says. The man pinning him down snarls, slamming his face into the snow again before looking over to his associate.

  


“ The scholar doesn’t ‘ave it, what do we do now?” The other groans slapping a hand over his forehead.

  


“ Dammit Tobias, I told you to turn right! If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” He rubs his temples and mutters beneath his breath, “ And also, I wouldn’t have a chance of getting a pay cut.”

  


“ Well, I don’t have to listen to you!” He pouts. “ Jus’ 'cause yer right fifty percent of the time doesn’t mean I always ‘ave ta listen. I mean, the opposite could’ve happened if I went the direction you wanted me to go,” The other sneers.

  


“ Listen to you lazy pile of bricks-,” He kicks the man holding him down. “ While I worked my ass off you’re here, ass on the ground, contributing absolutely nothing to this-.” He stops when the phone in his back pocket begins to ring, growling at his partner before picking up.

  


“ Hello-” The man says before urgently pulling the device away from his ear, his face contorted from the sudden shouts clearly sounded amongst the blowing wind. He winces in pain, slowly pulling back the device towards his ear in a cautious manner in the case it would happen again.

  


He coughs a bit and responds, “ Y-Yes, we have the scholar.” The man shudders when the person on the other side responds; before putting it down while pursing his lips and looking at his partner. He raises the talkie back towards his ear and stutters out, “ N-No, t-the other one, t-they left before we could have a ch-chance to procure the book,”. The older boy pushes the device away from his ear, shutting his eyes tight in case of any more screams.

  


The other one snatches it, putting the device towards his ear, “ I’m sorry mam, could you be so kind as to repeat that. My partner here shut you off before you would even get to finish!”. The ‘incompetent’ partner listens carefully, eventually speaking into it saying. “ Yes, mam!”. The call ends, and the man turns to his partner. 

  


“ Boss says we need to lug this sucker back to the base,” he says, pocketing the device into his pocket and grabbing and tilting his head to get a better view of his neck. “ Should we try an’ administer some ‘ort of a sleepin’ drug?” the scholar freezes as the other scoffs.

  


“ I don’t think we have one on me right now-” 

  


“ That’s all right’. I have one on me,” the other says shortly after procuring a needle from his bag. He fumbles with the cap as the other pouts, watching the captive struggle against the strong grip on his neck. 

  


“ You sure are always prepared for these situations,” he mumbles as the needle is inserted deep into the scholar’s skin. The other hums in agreement, putting the cape back on the used needle and back into his bag.

  


“ I jus’ like feelin’ prepared. You know the sayin’-,” he securely hoists Albright over his shoulders. “ You jus’ gotta be prepared for these kinda things.”.

  


“ That's not a saying if I’ve ever heard one,” the other says while rolling his eyes.

  


While the two argue over nothing, Albright uselessly sways from the shoulders of the cloaked man. His sight beginning to flicker as well as the sound around him turning to a distant murmur. His eyes begin to close as his heartbeat slows.

  


And he lets sleep overtake him.

\------------------------

_ “ Cyrus,” The voice in his head echoes repeatedly. “ Cyrus wake up.”. _

  


_ He coughs a ragged breath as the crashing sea waves wash over him and he breathes a sigh. He pushes himself off the rock, only to fall back down as his bones ache. His sight is quickly covered by a hand over his eyes, and the voice in his left ear begins to speak. _

  


_ “ Cyrus, are you awake?” Attempting to force an answer from him, the hand over his eyes begins to force them open. A distorted image of a mess of colors pops out from the image, he narrows his eyes. Trying to scrutinize what exactly it is, and left with a single question as the figure sighs and drops him on the cold hard surface beneath him.  _

  


_ “ Should I wait, if so how long? If I wait too long he’ll be gone before I can do anything,” the voice mumbles almost breathlessly. Its eyes(?) staring back at him, it mumbles some more before being satisfied with a sudden conclusion. _

  


_ “ I suppose you need more time to rest,” it giggles almost childishly.” You have just performed a very powerful rite for me, so I can assume that the emptiness you feel is quite natural. I’m almost a bit surprised that you’ve only  just woken up,” it holds up a hand over his eyes.” Quite the achievement Professor. That a human such as yourself had the potential to become a successor of the great Archmagus himself! Your family must be very proud,” he winces when he hears the term ‘family’ spoken so lightly. However, the figure ignores it and begins to hum. _

  


_ “ Not matter. I assume that you need your sleep, and to that,” it stops before the voice speaks again in his left ear. _

  


_ “ Goodnight.” _

\------------------------

He stares at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing every detail of his face. From the small rise of his cheekbones to the crystalline blue of his eyes. He continues to stare at himself before taking a step back to examine himself in the small bathroom mirror. Trying to figure out the root of his problems before breathing a heavy sigh.

  


_ “ The makeup,” _ he steps forward towards the sink. turning it on. Watching the warm water gush out of the tap before splashing it all over his face, rubbing his hands onto the specific areas of where he had put it on. It wasn’t that he wore too much makeup, none that would be absurd. He only wore enough to hide the creases in his eyes from the sleep deprivation, and the lack of color in his skin from the lack of nutrients and vitamins needed from daily meals ( which was rare, next to nothing ). It was to make himself look a bit more presentable - Odette would usually do the same early in the mornings to prepare for work. 

  


“ To avoid attention,” she would casually say whenever he asked closing the door. He took a page out of her book, occasionally doing the same when the time called for it ( when Odette wasn’t watching of course. But if she ever did, God bless his soul and hope for the best ), applying it during the special times before any type of presentation or speech. Sometimes, however, it caused some unwanted attention.

  


He shivered at the memory, quickly discarding off of his mind to focus on the apparent dark circles around his eyes. Tracing each one of the dark blemishes with his finger before pursing his lips.

  


_ “ Hair,” _ his hands go towards the back of his head. Untying the white ribbon that holds his ponytail together and letting it fall, he grabs at a specifically long strand and pulls on it a bit. He eyes move onto the bag sitting down next to the sink.

  


He bends down to open it and pull out a pair of black scissors. They seem to radiate underneath the dim lighting of the restroom he was currently in, reflecting nothing in its dark abyss of color. 

  


His hands shook as it neared his hair.

  


Odette had always found it a mystery, the fear of scissors and the constant begging to avoid having it cut most of the times. Although she would never find the reason ( most preferably so ) she would always ask.

  


Now, of course, it had been a long time ago when this had happened. Hidden deep within himself, he had to have found a traumatizing fear of scissors from something. Of course, it couldn’t have been childhood paranoia, that was something he just didn't have. Like he was right now, he was a normal teenager. Someone who didn’t eat much when his caretakers weren’t home and didn’t do much besides the occasionally long study lesson he would prepare for himself. 

  


Just like before.

  


Just like before when that same purple haired figure would take their hands combed through his hair, mumbling whispers into his left ear. Making him feel devoid of anything, control over his body slipping away from his grasp. The thrums of ice pumping through his veins as those hands began to roam across his exposed skin, shards of glass piercing his flesh each time they began to graze  his skin with their sharp fingernails. The same hands that would make him feel so small as his head became clouded with so much fear, so much disgust, for doing absolutely nothing. And soon enough, the door would open - that was when the hands would stop, and instead start rummaging through his clothes-.

  


He stopped himself from remembering, gripping his shaking hands onto the marble sink and counting over and over in his head. Two... Four... Six…- - Two... Four... Six. Three numbers that would be able to bring him back to reality; three numbers that he was sure were positively correct in every way, shape, and format. Whether they may be in math or writing, three numbers that didn't have to be questioned.  Three numbers that kept him sane without any question, three numbers that reminded him of ho-

  


He shook his head, letting it clear again as he takes one more deep breath before exhaling. With now still hands, he takes the scissors and puts them back into the backpack before quickly zipping the bag with more force then he had expected to. He looks back into the mirror and puts his ponytail back where it had belonged, combed neatly and tied with a little bow. His looks back at his face, taking two fingers and lifting the edges of his lips into a smile. 

  


He doesn't need anything today, he can tell Dreisang about staying up at night and forgetting to eat as well as sleep for a few days.

  


He was a workaholic, after all. 

\------------------------

A man keenly works on a specific vial, twirling the strange blue liquid with a kind of  grace that Cyrus revered. A man that Cyrus himself idolized, perfectly calm in the face of dire situations. Someone who didn't care about weakness nor strength, a man who embodied a die-hard calculating presence at first glance but later became much more relaxing to be around.

  


“Cyrus, pass me that vial we worked on yesterday.” He says in a rough voice, his focus entirely on the swirling blue liquid before him.

  


“Didn't you bring it home yesterday?¨ He asks, confusion marking his every word.

  


“Than pick it up for me,” he says. Putting the vial down onto a tray and taking off his gloves, the old man makes a motion for him to follow. Cyrus puts down his nearly completed notepad onto a nearby desk and follows his diligently. 

  


As soon as they both exit a particular glass door, the old man walks towards a countertop. Grasping a ring full of jingling keys, the old man begins to snarl as he goes through each and every one of them. He mutters a couple of words beneath his breath, before shaking his head and tossing the keys towards Cyrus. “I need you to run to my house and get the vial- be back by two.” He points to the clock, both hands struck at twelve. 

  


Cyrus nods with a small smile on his face, “Iĺl be back as soon as possible Dreisang.” He pockets the ring of keys as he goes to put on his jacket hanging on the hanger. Just as he puts his first arm into one of the sleeves, he feels something hit him in the back. He turns around towards Dreisang with a confused look.

  


“Did you need something else, sir?” Dreisang motions down towards the ground and he looks down. There on the ground was a leather wallet, he looks up. “Do you want me to buy something?”

  


Dreisang shakes his head sighing, “It’s the afternoon, you and I haven’t eaten in a while.”

  


“Do you want me to get you some lunch?”

  


“I want you to get some lunch Cyrus, a growing teenager such as yourself shouldn’t be starving himself. No matter what kind of shitty school you go too,” 

  


Cyrus narrowed his eyes.

  


“But… What about you?” He says.

  


Dreisang puts tosses his gloves into the trash and slowly opening the glass door, “Get me some coffee. I’m going to stay here for a while,”

  


Cyrus smiles, “I’ll be sure to enjoy myself.”

\------------------------

He wasn’t enjoying himself.

  


A man wraps his arm over Cyrus’s right shoulder, his leering gaze unmatched by Cyrus’s avoiding glance. “ Hey baby girl, don’t leave me hanging.” and the man’s words echoed in Cyrus’s head.

  


Girl.

_ Girl _

**_Girl_ **

  


The nerve of some people, he was obviously not a girl nor was he supposed to be mistaken for a girl. He wasn’t born a girl ( maybe in some alternate universe yes, but not here ), and the most obviously didn’t look like a girl or woman of any sort. It was ridiculous how some stupid teenager or any male or female could mistake him for one. 

  


It was stupid.

Ridiculous.

Out of the question, not a girl-

  


“ Hey! You leave her alone you creep!” and he silently shrunk. The voice of a pubescent teenager rings out of the noisy bus, and the notable reference to the word once popping up.

  


He looks back up at the flashing neon lights, waiting for the moment his stop would flash onto the sign. Not noticing the heated argument between the two with his gender being tossed around between the two of them. 

  


“ You should watch you're going creep,” the girl says. The bus getting slightly cold when the bus door swings open.       “  _ The winds of fortune are howl _ -” he gets up from his seat. Careful to move swiftly across the bus and exit the doors behind him, not noticing the swirling cold wind stop blowing. 

  


He sighs, agitated as he checks his phone for the time. 12:30, he had enough time to pick up something for Dreisang. He smiles before putting his phone away and looking around the area, letting his thoughts roam as he does. 

  


Three teenagers wearing large backpacks walking down the street gave way to their own plans. The area had been known for its nearby residence to lush forests and tall mountains, so it gave the obvious impression that they were planning to take the bus towards the nearest one.

  


His eyes wander to a young man with blonde hair dashing down the street. While it gave the obvious impression that he was late for something important, the occasional neat but messy hair that was usually present for business meetings wasn’t present as usual. Perhaps work? But he didn’t exactly look the part for an office worker nor did he fit the age of one, his tall stature and facial structure may give off the impression of an adult but teenage youth was given away from the green jacket with the newest mascot of the Orsterra Snowcats from the latest selection provided to its students. 

  


Another teen follows him, presumably the same age as the blonde one. His short lanky body structure gave way to potential lack of family help and exercise. His snow white hair stood out the most amongst his tan skin, Cyrus predicting that the young man came from somewhere else. Or maybe he had dyed his hair? But neither black or brown strands were present and so forth. 

  


He enters the coffee shop first, deciding to take a moment to look at the menu before  deciding. After having been served by a charming young woman - closely looking at her nametag with the name Primrose written in cursive - he takes the large coffee and the bag containing the two sandwiches from another girl -her name tag with the name Yusufa written in a more linear fashion. As soon as he exits the store grabs at one of the sandwiches, unwrapping the paper and taking a bite out of it, relished by the taste of fresh tomatoes and ham as well as the crunch of the bread beneath his teeth. Cyrus takes his mind off of his surrounding area, instead of enjoying the sandwich in his  hand as he joyously walks down the much more darker areas of the town. 

  


Unfortunately, that would end soon when a large cat pounced towards him.

  


Of course, like any other person who would ever encounter a potentially bloodthirsty animal, he lets out a small yelp and drops everything. Including the two sandwiches.

  


And the large coffee, all over his white shirt.

  


The cat grabs the paper bag with its teeth before running away, leaving Cyrus with a large coffee stain and a trampled sandwich.

  


He sighs, brushing back his hair and continuing to walk; noticing the eyes all over him.

  


Eyes that wander all over his body like little hands, grasping his lungs so tight its hard to breathe. Making him feel so small wondering where it had all gone wrong. Pitying gazes looking over him and his shirt just like last time, 

_ J _ ust _ like last time- _

  


And there he is, in front of the large apartment. Shaking for dear life from the harsh winds that blow, he takes a step inside. Walking down the red-carpeted hallway, desperately searching for the number.

  


And there it was, in all of its perfect glory.

  


The doorways usually had to follow a structure of numbering, but Dreisang had managed to convince the landlord about the permanent fixation on his door specifically. 

  


_ 246 _

  


He didn’t particularly know what exactly entranced him about the three numbers being put together, but it made him feel whole. A perfect sequence of numbers not to be questioned just for him, he pulls out the ring of keys. Taking out a specifically small key and sliding it into the keyhole, turning it, and opening the door.

  


To apartment 246.

\------------------------

The scholar wakes tied to a chair, his arms bound to a wooden structure. He struggles against it, the ropes continuing to constrict his arms before tearing into his skin. He draws a shaky breath, looking around his surroundings the best he can before recognizing the blindfold covering his view. 

  


“ So the scholar’s finally taken his beauty sleep?¨ The scholar grinds his teeth, immediately recognizing the course voice.

  


“Yvon, I thought you were better than this.”

  


“Oh? So all of a sudden the scholar can figure out what's the best for me?” The convict says with a condescending tone. “I didn’t know you could do that Alephan! You really are as ‘bright’ as they say,”

  


“ You out of everyone in this place know what's going to happen when you open that gate,” the scholar growls. “You need to stop all of this, stop it all before it's too late. It doesn’t have to end like this-”

  


“All right, I’ll listen. But what's in it for me?” The older professor says.

  


“ Are… Are you serious?” The scholar stomps one of his feet onto the ground pavement. “ This is the world at stake! This is the future, the past, the present! Everything will be destroyed if you allow that woman to open that gate-”

  


“ And what exactly did the world do for me,” the sound of metal crashing to the floor echoes across the empty room. “ All this place gave me was a face full of dirt and yet you of all people tell me to keep a fucking moral high ground.” A low guttural growl followed by footsteps. “You're so funny you know that?” 

  


The scholar falls to the ground, cheek red from the punch. 

  


“ You like to express yourself as some kind of all-powerful Saint, but you can’t do shit by yourself.” 

  


A swift kick is delivered to the scholar’s gut, forcing a cough from him. 

  


“ You’ll regret this Yvon,” he says between pants. “ My companions will stop you before all of this happens.”

  


“ And what are you going to do? Annoy me to death?” Yvon chuckles. “ Face it Alephan, your nothing. Maybe your son’s much better,” he hums.

  


The scholar stops, “ You’ll never find him. Odette is headed there right now, once she arrives, she’ll take him somewhere far away from here. Where you and your colleagues will never find him.” 

  


“ Oh really?” Hands reach around the blindfold, untying the knot behind the black cloth. A smug smile on Yvon’s face as he tosses the blindfold to the other side of the empty room. “ Because I think we just ruined your plans,” he snaps his fingers. A pair of raggedly dressed men burst through the doors holding a struggling Odette in their tight grip.

  


She stumbles down onto the ground as the doors close behind the two men, leaving her to quickly get back up on her feet. Looking defiantly at Yvon before softening when they land on Alephan.

  


“ Alephan!” She shouts, her softened look turned back to a glare as they land on Yvon. “ If you think I’ll reveal the location of the book, your very mistaken. I’ll make you pay if you even dare-”

  


“ I don’t necessarily care about any kind of book.” He matches Odette’s glare with a calm smile. “ But do you truly want to know what I’m really after?”

  


Alephan can feel his teeth grind as the old professor steps forward, leaning into her ear as his whispers make Odette’s eyes widen by the second. 

  


“ You wouldn’t dare…” she says through clenched teeth. Her defiant tone slowly draining from her voice, “ You can’t. You can’t do that to him-” 

  


“ And he has so much he can offer to us, I’ve been making sure that Lucia has been looking closely over his activities. I’m quite pleased about the way you’ve raised him.” He sets the chair back up before sitting down, “ Perfectly submissive to every command given, brilliant in every way, shape, or form. Truly the perfect child you have raised Alephan.” The old professor looks down his wristwatch, “ Well. I best be going, enjoy your time alone. It might be your last.” 

  


A hideous stream of laughter follows him as Yvon slams the door shut behind him, leaving Alephan alone with Odette. 

  


“ We should’ve moved him,” she says in a soft tone. 

  


“ It would’ve been too dangerous,” he responds.

  


“ Well, it would’ve been a lot less dangerous than this!” She slams her hand on the concrete.

  


“ Trust him, Odette. He may be young, but we trained him better for this.” 

  


“ You’ve seen the effects of what you gave him,” she scratches her arm. “ It's too harmful, especially to his mental state if that witch or Yvon’s assistant had gotten even close to him.” 

  


“ He’s stronger than you think Odette-”

  


“ I know he’s strong Alephan, but this? Lucia, Yvon, Lyblac? No, it doesn’t matter how strong he is. It was over the moment Yvon even mentioned Lyblac,” she shrinks. Placing her head complacently between her knees.

  


He stares at her hopelessness for a while, bruises marring her skin, scrapes, and cuts littering across her cheeks and arms. He closes his eyes, hoping to gather a connection. That may be by concentrating he can break through the barrier surrounding their location. That one last time he’ll be able to communicate, but just a little bit. 

  


“ Cyrus,” he mumbles. “ There’s a special door that I need you to find,” the memory of three numbers emerges. “ You’ve memorized it at this point correct? Well, I need you to remember again.”

  


Somehow, he feels he’ll regret this decision. That somewhere in the line Cyrus will eventually mess up like times before, but for once Alephan puts his full trust in this experiment. Putting everything in the line for some semblance of safety. 

  


" Go to room 246"

  


And his order was cast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning 'mysterious figure' was actually supposed to be Cyrus followed by Odette who was described as 'blonde haired woman' ( which is a major thing which I changed later on in the months ). I had actually finished that specific chapter before going back to my overall notes about how the fanfiction was supposed to play out and the idea was scrapped in order to put the Orsterra Gods near center stage besides the main eight characters of Octopath.   
> Cyrus was originally going to participate in a prison break scene with Odette, but that was also scrapped half-way in order to keep his 'powers' a secret.   
> The scene in which Cyrus was walking down the pathway was supposed to be a day scene in which Cyrus sees clips of the other characters of the Octopath group discovering/using their powers. It was supposed to be a buildup of a 'whats going to happen separately for the rest of the characters' in the later chapters. But it was later dialed down to 'oh look, its your favorite characters in a more modern setting' type of thing.  
> In all honesty, Cyrus is a really compelling character to write. There's a lot you can do with the 'intelligent genius with the social knowledge of a banana' trope and especially one where background isn't necessarily a thing unlike most of the other characters with Octopath. It also gives me a reason to believe that Cyrus doesn't necessarily like to talk about family and I wouldn't say that his family is quite 'alright' as they say.  
> Well anyways, those were some personal notes about some background things I wanted to talk about. I pray that Tressa's story will be a lot less harder to write ( since its mainly going to be about a teenage girl wanting to be a superhero and I've been planning this for weeks ) and less tedious to work trhough since there's is going to be absolutely no angst!  
> Yep.  
> Well anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and...  
> Ciao~  
> -Ari Riese

**Author's Note:**

> I've promised those in the Octopath Amino for a fan fiction, and they waited about three weeks... So here it is those who came from Amino! My fan fiction!   
> But seriously, I feel a twinge of guilt having Ophilia go through this because she's so sweet and kind to everyone around her. Well, her experiences aren't going to be as bad as the hell I plan to put Cyrus in!   
> Yep! Next chapter will be all about Cyrus! Feel free to speculate in the comments about it! ( Hint: It ain't pretty ).  
> Now I'm just going to sleep now, its 1 am and I need to sleep or else I'll die in the morning.  
> See you all till next time!  
> Ciao~  
> -Ari Riese


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